Each Dream Come True means Another is Shattered
by sunny-historian
Summary: Nurse Chapel's having a bad day...and it gets worse. Weepy.
1. The bottom dropped out of my world

**_Each Dream Come True means Another's Shattered_**__

Disclaimer: Characters all belong to Paramount; and this fic was partly inspired by a picture by Farfalla, /Nurse Chapel's Bad Day/.

**Chapter One: Suddenly, the bottom dropped out of my world**

"Now, Chris," warned Doctor McCoy, "don't stay up there staring too long - there /is/ something for ya to do down here!"

He was being fair, I guess; I nodded and picked up the tray, heading for the turbolift.

My mind kept escaping from me on the brief ride - escaping and playing with Commander Spock in a garden of roses. For Asclepios' sake! I was only going to hand him six petrie dishes... but then, that would be enough.

Well, not enough. It never was - never would be. But to have a proper excuse to visit the bridge - to look at him - to speak to him -- was as nearly enough as, in my saner moments, I could hope for.

I hardly noticed the turbolift's gentle stop, but when I realised him close I was to seeing him - to him seeing /me/! - my heart began to hammer.

"Calm," I thought viciously as the doors slid open as if there was all the time in the world, digging my fingernails into my palms and performing intricate manoeuvres with the tray, "Be calm! Detached, emotionless, you're a bloody professional here... be like him..."

I looked first at his science station, then at the command chair. He wasn't there.

"Where's Mr. Spock?" I asked nobody in particular, hoping I didn't sound as desperate as I felt. I wish I'd imagined that everyone's smiles widened as I stepped out of the lift. Uhura's, though, was sympathetic.

"You just missed him. He went down to Rec One and then to sickbay with the captain. Only five minutes ago."

"Sickbay? Is he all right?"

"Oh yes - he said he had to see some specimens, I think."

"These, then," I said, nodding at the tray. "I'll go back, then - he was going to sickbay?"

"Yeah. See you, Chris."

I smiled at her and went back to the turbolift. I'd been in sickbay every other moment of the day... why the hell did he have to choose this one?

I looked down as I went along the familiar corridors to sickbay, rehearsing what I'd say to him. But when (at last, at last) I did see him, I couldn't say anything - I had dropped the tray of dishes and frozen in horror. For when I went around that corner and saw him, he was held in the captain's embrace. Kissing him as if he'd never let him go.

I've never been much of a voyeur. I wished I was, then, but I couldn't take pleasure in the sight. In fact, it felt as if his sharpened fingernails were ripping my heart to rags. The part of me that never got involved in my stupid love-affairs was trying to comment in surprise at the sheer degree of physical pain involved in a purely mental process. If it hadn't been me, I'd have strangled it.

I never let myself cry in public! But as I ran past them - they didn't even see me, and the sound of six glass dishes smashing on the deck hadn't disturbed their embrace one bit - I broke my rule. Collapsing on the floor just inside sickbay, hot tears soaked my face and dress. That awful, awful moment when I'd seen the, the bottom had dropped out of my world. I was shaking with emptiness and pain, sobbing frantically. Dr. McCoy's voice was a shock.

"Nurse Chapel? Chris! Christine, what the heck's the matter?"

"Spock," I choked, the image in front of my eyes. Oh, my Spock! My sweet! "Captain... Spock..."

My incoherence only bewildered him for a second. "Hell, Chris, I'm sorry. I know you'd have to find out sometime. Just didn't think it'd be like that... I was hoping to break it to you gently, you know?"

"You knew?"

"Hell, it wasn't a secret! At least, only from you and Janice Rand. You have to believe me, Chris, I tried to get them to let me tell you. But Jim and Spock seemed to think it'd be kinder to pretend."

"/Kind?/"

He hugged me and held me. "They thought so. I'm so sorry. Wish it didn't have to be like this, Christine..."

"Wish I wasn't such an idiot..." I wiped my eyes. "And I dropped the specimens. I'm sorry."

"It's all right. You had a shock. I nearly passed out when they told me!"

"I'm a fool."

"No, you're not. Don't say that! You've never been a fool, Chris. You've just had bad luck. And bad taste in men..."

I laughed a little. "Can't deny that, Doctor, I'll get back to work."

He didn't let go. "You're sure you're okay?"

"Yes. Honestly, I'm fine."


	2. Oblivion for a shallow heart

**_Each Dream Come True means Another's Shattered_**__

Disclaimer: Characters all belong to Paramount; and this fic was partly inspired by a picture by Farfalla, /Nurse Chapel's Bad Day/.

**Chapter Two: Oblivion for a Shallow Heart**  
  
I stayed in sickbay long past the end of my shift. When I left at last, I chose the most deserted corridors I could find to get back to my quarters. The few people I did pass were near-strangers and, mercifully, silent.

Arriving home, I threw myself onto the bed and tried to console myself with my favourite fantasies; but they wouldn't come. Rolling onto my back, my eyes met those of the large picture of Spock which I'd pinned to my ceiling. That was what convinced me that this was an obsession I was better off without. Love was unselfish! If I'd ever really loved him, the fact that he was happy wouldn't be making me so miserable. Surely! So I didn't love him… and so I had to give him up, get over him. Why couldn't I convince myself?

I tore the picture from my ceiling, screwed it into a ball and threw it into the corner; then did the same with the other six. I'd never been able to get a holograph - 2D printouts of official photos were all my begging, pleading and hacking could discover. To stiffen my resolve, I chucked the lot down the chute to recycling and left for the mess, hoping to find someone, anyone to take my mind off him.

I was in luck. Uhura, Sulu, Chekov and - most unexpectedly - McCoy were sitting together. They seemed deep in conversation, so I hesitated in the doorway; but Uhura saw me, stood up and came over.

"Chris!" she said, "Are you all right?"

I nodded and she enveloped me in a massive hug. "Fine," I said as she led me over to their table. Not strictly true, perhaps, but I hardly knew Sulu. Besides, an honest answer would have taken hours.

"Don't lie," she told me kindly. Sometimes I really disliked Uhura.

"Okay, then, I won't! I'm bloody upset! And I don't want to talk about it!"

My God, was that really me yelling at my best, my only friends in public? This must have got to me more than I knew. "Hell, I'm so sorry…" I said, blinking away tears and dropping into the free chair next to McCoy. He put his arm round me.

"Don't be, " he said, as Uhura echoed "Sorry…"

I sighed. "I've just been throwing away all my pictures and trying not to hate the captain. It isn't working. I just wanted to forget."

"What you need," said McCoy with his best and most professional doctor's manner, "is a drink."

"Or two," grinned Sulu. I smiled grimly.

"Enough, and I might just go and kiss him. But that much and I wouldn't remember it…"

"Always a catch," smiled Uhura. She seemed to have forgiven me; a blush swept over my face at the memory. How much of an idiot could I be in one day? Still counting.

McCoy disappeared, presumably to get something from his nefarious stocks of alcohol of all shades, and there was a long silence.

"So… how was your day?" I asked nobody in particular, with a marked lack of originality.

"Oh, not bad," said Uhura as Chekov answered, "Wery boring," and Sulu, "Well, nothing happened, so…"

I smiled. "Anything in the offing to… break the monotony?"

"Vell," said Chekov conspiratorially, leaning towards me and lowering his voice, "alzhough zhe keptin vould haff my head if he knew I'd said anyzhing, I vould stake a huntred credits ve vill see Klingons before zhe veek is out."

Before I could enquire further, the doctor slid furtively back into his chair, placing the fruits of his travel on the table in front of him.

"Saurian brandy," he said in a low voice, "Scotch - if any of you see Scotty, I didn't have it, I haven't got it and you certainly didn't drink it - vodka for you, Chekov, and Madeira. Don't ask where or why I got /that/ one! All I could find at such short notice…" He grinned.

"Doctor, I'm shocked," I said, completely failing to be funny. I smiled nervously. "Sorry…"

He pushed the Madeira towards me. "Shut up and drink. Does this establishment run to a glass?"

Sulu had clearly had the same bright idea, he was arguing in a low voice with a replicator. Chekov, looking longingly at the vodka, at last gave up and grabbed the bottle. He poured a little into the cap, gulped it in one and poured himself another.

I looked at Uhura. She looked at McCoy. He looked at me. "Inventive…" I said drily. Laughter, thank goodness, as Sulu returned with five glasses of water.

"Damn thing wouldn't give me empty glasses! We /have/ to get them reprogrammed."

"Right up Scotty's street," said McCoy. "Give Chekov one, quick, I want that bottle back!"

I drank the water slowly and poured myself a modest Madeira. I hadn't drunk since I was a teenager - Roger and alcohol had never mixed and since his loss I'd had no time to waste in my search for him. And by the time I… I couldn't think about that time. When had I realised that Roger wasn't my only love? When had Spock's beautiful, beautiful face first begun to float before my closed eyes? A tear ran down my cheek, then another.

"Chris! You're crying!" exclaimed McCoy, looking concerned, I brushed my wet cheeks with a hand.

"I'm fine. It's nothing," I lied, "I just though -- never mind. What… what was that about Klingons?"

As Chekov began, I swallowed my Madeira in one and reached for the bottle again. The only oblivion for a shallow heart.


End file.
